Chapter 1

Chapter One

R idge

The sky tonight is clear, the kind of rare clarity that makes every star seem closer. I adjust the telescope, fine-tuning the lens, and note the position of a new cluster I’ve been tracking for weeks. Nights like this are why I stay on Devil’s Peak—why I avoid distractions, people, and everything that pulls me away from the stars. Out here, it’s quiet. Predictable.

At least it was quiet until the door to my observatory bursts open.

“You’re missing poker night,” Zane announces as he storms in, his boots leaving a trail of snow across my polished wooden floor. Slate and Grady follow, beers in hand and grins plastered across their faces.

“Not interested,” I mutter, jotting down coordinates. If I don’t engage, they’ll lose interest and leave me to work.

But Zane leans against my desk, knocking over a stack of star charts I spent hours organizing. “Come on, Ridge. You can’t hide up here forever. You’re inching up to forty–when’s the last time you even talked to a woman? Hell, when’s the last time you saw one? Twenty years?”

Slate chuckles. “He’s married to the stars. You should’ve seen him last week, staring at the sky like it owed him something.”

Grady smirks. “Maybe he’s saving himself for his telescope.”

“Funny,” I deadpan, but I don’t look up. It’s easier to ignore them than fuel their nonsense.

Zane’s grin turns wicked. “Well, don’t worry, big brother. I’ve got you covered.”

The tone of his voice makes me glance up. “What did you do?”

Zane shrugs, trying and failing to look innocent. “Nothing much. Just placed an ad. Mail-order bride. You know, to help you out.”

I set my pen down, slowly. “You what?”

Grady laughs, holding up his phone. “It’s real, man. We even got a response.”

“Response?” My voice drops, dangerously low. They think this is a joke, but I’m not laughing.

“Oh yeah,” Slate chimes in. “She’s on her way. Might even be here tonight.”

My jaw tightens. “You’re all idiots.”

Zane claps me on the shoulder, ignoring the storm brewing in my expression. “Lighten up, Ridge. You’ll thank us when she shows up.”

I stand, towering over him. “If anyone shows up because of this, you’re the one explaining it. Now get the hell out of my observatory.”

They laugh their way out the door, leaving behind empty beer bottles and a trail of chaos. I clean up, muttering curses under my breath. The idea of a mail-order bride is ridiculous. There’s no way anyone in their right mind would actually answer one of those things, is there?

Thirty minutes later a knock at the door cuts through my thoughts.

I freeze. No one comes up here unannounced, especially at night. Zane couldn’t have been serious... could he?

Another knock, this time sharper. Whoever it is, they’re not leaving. With a sigh, I open the door.

And there she is.

A petite brunette with sharp green eyes, dressed in a thick winter coat, a scarf wrapped around her neck, and luggage at her feet. She crosses her arms, raising an unimpressed brow.

“You’re Ridge Warner?” she asks, her tone flat, no hint of humor.

“Depends. Who’s asking?”

She exhales, a puff of steam in the cold mountain air. “I’m Quinn–your bride.”

I step back, letting her inside. She brushes past me, her suitcase trailing behind her. Her eyes scan the observatory—star charts on the walls, shelves lined with books, the telescope dominating the center of the room. She whistles low. “Nice setup. At least you’re not a complete fraud.”

“Excuse me?” I close the door, folding my arms. “Mind telling me why you’re here?”

She spins to face me, fire in her eyes. “I answered your ad about needing a wife. Normally, I’d ignore something so absurd, but when I saw the address and realized it was right here on Devil’s Peak, well, I thought, why not?”

“I can’t believe this is happening right now.”

She rolls her eyes. “I have to say…I didn’t expect…all this.” She waves a hand around my observatory. So you work on constellations? I’ve been charting the star maps up here for weeks, it’s the best viewing spot in The Rockies.”

The pieces click into place. “The best spot in the West, actually. What are you an astrophysicist?”

“Researcher,” she corrects. “Freelance. I’ve been doing research from my brother’s cabin on the Phantom River but I couldn’t miss the chance to get a little higher up the mountain…this I did not expect though.”

“You and me both,” I grunt.

“So…” one pretty eyebrow arches with surprise, “you seem surprised to see me. You didn’t know about the mail-order-bride thing?”

“This is my brother’s idea of a prank…” I trail off, not sure what else there is to say. I haven’t had a woman here since…ever. My existence has been pretty solitary since I left the military a few years ago and that’s just the way I like it.

“I guess that means you want me to leave then?” Her gaze trails out the window to the giant snowflakes that are quickly piling up.

Zane’s joke just got a hell of a lot more complicated. “Look,” I start, “I didn’t know about the ad. If I had, I wouldn’t have?—”

“Oh, save it.” She waves me off, pacing the room. “Your brother’s an ass, and you’re clearly not much better for letting him pull this. I’ve heard about the Warners–I’ve just…never met one of you in person. Nine brothers…you all have quite a reputation around these parts. I guess it’s well-deserved considering I just spent two hours driving up this damn mountain because of a childish prank.”

“Maybe you should’ve ignored the ad.”

“Maybe you should control your brother,” she shoots back, her voice razor-sharp.

I narrow my eyes, fighting the urge to snap back. She’s not wrong, but damn if her attitude doesn’t set my blood boiling—in more ways than one. My eyes take in her sweet curves and the soft round and rosy cheeks and lips a soft shade of pink that have me wondering what they’d feel like pressed against mine. I shake my head, trying to ignore the ache of my dick behind my zipper.

“You can’t stay here,” I say finally. “I don’t know what Zane told you, but I’m not looking for a... bride.”

“Good thing I’m not offering,” she shoots back. “There’s no way I’m trekking back down the mountain in the dark, though.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fine. You can take the bed, I’ll hit the couch tonight.”

She smirks. “You’re too kind.”

The tension crackles like static, and I can’t decide if I want to throttle her or kiss her. She’s gorgeous—soft and shapely, confident, and way too young. Nineteen or twenty tops. I’m thirty-seven. Old enough to know better but telling my throbbing dick that is another thing entirely.